


Nothing's Changed

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [218]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Office, Angst, Break Up, Discussion of condoms, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Moaning, overhearing masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 02:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17337251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: The first time it happened, Tony thought he was the luckiest guy in the world.





	Nothing's Changed

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: sometimes we’re showering at the same time and I can hear you moaning. Prompt from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

The first time it happened, Tony thought he was the luckiest guy in the world.

He was in the locker room at the health club, the hoi polloi one two streets over from work. Yeah, they had a killer exercise spread at Stark Tech and he'd also got an A+ set up at home but as he’d repeatedly tried to explain to Pepper (until she covered her ears and started howling) was that neither of those places was frequented by attractive men who don’t work for him and if he has to stay on the fucking treadmill for an hour, he damn well deserves a reward.

“Stop talking!” Pepper had said, her scent shooting straight up to _yuck_ the last time she’d made the mistake of questioning the expense. “Stop talking right now and get the hell out of my office, Captain Overshare.”

So they agreed to disagree (Pepper) and shut the hell up about it (Tony) and he went on blocking off 4-6 every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday on his calendar to work out and casually ogle. It kept his body in good shape and his fantasy life varied. All in all, a win/win.

Until the first time it happened, one Wednesday in the slog of February.

It was brutally cold outside, the kind that snuck in through your glove and blew in through your coat and the prospect of having to venture out in it--even if only to scurry across the sidewalk and dive into his town car--put Tony in a bad mood, made him linger under the heat of the shower a lot longer than usual. There were two shower heads in each of the six stalls, spaced three on each wall, each with matching hand-laid tile, warm brass colored fixtures, and built-in bath products that made everyone, alpha and omega alike, smell like cedar and oakwood and pine. The room was pretentiously luxe and there was one like it on each of the club’s four floors. God forbid the place have just one. That might necessitate members talking or making eye contact or asking each other impertinent questions about stock prices or business practices that could only lead to disagreements and raised voices and the sort of real-world unpleasantness that the club went out of its way to avoid.

Discretion and privacy, after all, these were the club’s bywords; look, in other words, but don’t speak and don’t touch. Another reason Tony Stark loved the place. It kept him and any of his baser, less well-considered impulses in check. As an alpha especially, his adherence to the rules was key--if he so much as put a (supportive, friendly) hand on an omega or a spritely little beta within the club’s walls, he’d be chucked out in the street, no questions asked, and still obligated to pay his membership dues for the remainder of the year. It was a tough rule for a reason--see: the expulsion of Dr. Stephen Strange in 2015 and the accompanying Page Six stories of an assignation with an omega in the juice bar that had shut the whole place for a week--and Tony appreciated that there was one place in his life, one group of people, who were willing to lay down hard lines.

It was Wednesday evening, then, slid hard into night, and he was hiding under the spray and breathing in steam, letting his head fill with post-workout white noise. For once, his body was tired more than his mind and it was delightful to feel the first fingers of sleep tugging at him. All he had to do, he decided, was muster the strength to climb out of the shower and into his clothes and stumble into the heated-seat warmth of the car and Jarvis would take him home and then, ah, then, he’d--

“Oh, _god_.”

A voice, one that cut through the fog:

“Mmmm, yeah. Fuck.”

Tony froze. No, he thought, no fucking way. That was not what it sounded like. He tilted his head out of the water. Stood real still. Listened. And heard, somehow, on the other side of the room, a moan, a low sound of deep pleasure that made the hair on his neck stand on end.

What the hell, he thought. Is somebody seriously jacking off?

Another groan, softer now. Aching. The slap of hand on slick tile.

Must be close, Tony thought. Must be good. God, listen to him.

There was a hum, like the guy had finally found the right spot, the right speed, then a moan at a higher pitch, faster, one that continued, these hot bullets of sound that reminded Tony of the last omega he’d had in his bed, a boy named Bucky from secretarial who had snarled and play fought and laughed until he was pinned under Tony and full and exquisitely hard and the noises he’d made as they fucked had made Tony as needy for it as he’d ever been in his life and he’d poured himself out into to the kid, knotted him without a condom and come in him again and again.

“I’m on Depro,” the kid had said after, his tanned skin hot and sticky, his fingers wound tight in Tony’s hair. “Don’t worry about it.”

Tony had nuzzled Bucky’s cheek, breathed in the sweet smell of satisfied omega. “Regardless, you shouldn’t let people do that.”

A grin, insouciant. “Who says I let people do anything? Maybe it’s just you.”

“Bucky--”

“What? I’m a big boy, Tony. Honest. I know what I’m doing.” He kissed Tony’s mouth, found a reason to linger. “And I know what I want.”

“Which is what?”

Bucky grabbed Tony’s hand and dragged it down between his thighs, to the place where he was still open, still wet. Murmured: “To feel like this every day.”

It’d gone on for six months between them, six beautiful, sex-soaked months of personal bliss that Tony would've loved to live again--but with a different ending.

“I’ll pay you double what they will.”

Bucky shook his head and sat up in bed, stretched his hand to the floor for his shirt. “It’s not only about the money, Tony. You know that. I need to make a name for myself, establish something on my own.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I was looking for another gig even before we started this and now, I have an even better reason to leave.”

“What’s that?”

“We’re not exactly a secret. You get that, right?”

“I didn’t know we had to be.”

Bucky sighed, shrugged into his sleeves. “We didn’t, but it’s made things weird for me. You getting me out of the pool and assigned to one-on-one to Rogers did not go unnoticed.”

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. “How many times have I told you. Steve _asked_ for you. He liked your work. Had absolute zero to do with me.”

“I know that,” Bucky said, “and you know that, but you know what everybody else thinks? That it was a cocksucker promotion.”

Tony could almost hear Pepper in his ear: _I told you so!_ “People say this to you?"

Bucky turned, his handsome face soft and a little sad. “Tone, they don’t have to. I can feel it when I walk in a room, even smell it sometimes. They sneer.”

So he’d had an offer from Danverscorp in Seattle--a good gig, a solid step up--and left two weeks later, no mess, no fuss.

“Call me when you’re in town,” Tony had said on their last night together. “A month from now, a year, five, whatever. If you come back, if you’re passing through, call me. Please.”

They were standing at the window wall in Tony’s bedroom, Tony wrapped in a sheet and Bucky wrapped in his arms. Below them, the city went on about its nighttime business as if nothing had changed, nothing were different, as if Tony’s own slice of the world weren’t about to blow up.

Bucky’s reflection grinned at him, a ghost of its usual grit. “Sure. I can do that.”

They’d made love like that, Bucky’s hands pressed to the glass, Tony teasing him with trembling fingers then easing in from behind. He watched Bucky’s face in the glass, the way it stretched with pleasure as he got a hand on himself and stroked in time with the desperate shove of Tony’s hips.

“I love you,” Tony said, very softly, tucking the words under Bucky’s cries as he splashed all over the glass. “God. I do.”

It’d been five years since he’d left. Five years since Tony had felt that kind of happiness. Five years since he’d heard an omega moan quite like that: a loud, hungry wave that struck Tony in the chest, a shot that make his whole body sing.

The guy was coming, Tony realized dimly, his fist drifting of its own accord. Holy shit, was he. Pumping all that pretty come right here, not ten feet away, so hungry for it he couldn’t even wait until he got home--or even to bother making sure he wasn’t alone.

He squeezed his dick and told it to calm the fuck down, but yeah, it had no interest in that.


End file.
